


Time & Duty

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Closeted Character, Coming Out, Complicated Relationships, Duty, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Canon, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: It's a summer's evening, and Ignis can't sleep.





	Time & Duty

They were camping some ways out from the capital, and it was late into the night – in fact, it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, and Ignis had long-since given up on falling asleep. The young Prompto had joined them on their little expedition, and whilst he was a little shy and uncertain, as yet, of Gladiolus and Ignis both, sometimes falling over himself in his attempts to impress… He was intelligent, to be certain, and he had obeyed orders in the field, asking questions about each of their weapons, about their tactics.

He was asleep now, sprawled under the stars with one arm wrapped loosely around his knapsack. Beside him, Noctis was asleep too, their legs loosely tangled together, but Noctis was sitting up, leaning back against one of the Chocobos from the palace stables, its wing over his chest, coaxing his highness’ head to rest on the bird’s neck. It was a good sign, too, that the Chocobo was so comfortable with Prompto. They were good judges of character, and Prompto and Noctis were comfortable with one another, too, even in sleep.

Noctis needed friends his own age.

Not for the first time, Ignis felt a small twinge of uncertainty, and he turned his head away from his charge, resting his chin against his own folded arms, settled upon his knees. It wasn’t a cold night, but the breeze had the slightest chill in it, and he was glad of his jacket as he looked out over the hills, over the sandy scapes that led out toward the tombs.

“Can’t sleep?”

Ignis looked up to Gladiolus, who had made his way over on surprisingly fleet and silent feet, standing a Ignis’ shoulder, and Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose.

“We aren’t all so adept at slumbering in the dirt as you are, Gladio,” Ignis murmured, and Gladiolus took a step forward, dropping hard onto his arse in the earth beside Ignis, his legs dangling from the edge of the small cliff. Ignis immediately felt the warmth of the other young man beside him – Gladiolus, easily twice Ignis’ size, broke the gentle draught of the breeze, and radiated a heat all of his own. “You can’t sleep either, I take it?”

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Gladio said, shrugging his shoulders. The muscles at his shoulder blades rippled thick and strong, and Ignis set his jaw, hyperaware of the weight of his tongue in his mouth, pressed against the back of his teeth, against his own palate. “Figured you’d answered the call of nature, but then I saw you sat out here, moping.”

“Moping,” Ignis repeated, mildly amused. “Is that what you think?”

“Why else would you be curled up in the foetal position?”

“Because it’s rather chilly, that’s all,” Ignis said, and Gladio laughed quietly, leaning in and dragging one ridiculously muscular arm about Ignis’ shoulder, dragging him close. “Oh, _you_ aren’t chilly at all.”

“That’s ‘cause I’ve got meat on my bones,” Gladiolus rumbled, and Ignis chuckled, leaning into his chest and feeling the heated weight of Gladio’s arm on his shoulder, his fingers brushing against the side of Ignis’ neck before he drew his arm back. He didn’t put his hand back in his lap: instead, it settled flat in the dust behind Ignis’ lower back, so that Gladio’s wrist, his forearm, still brushed Ignis’ body, and Ignis exhaled silently. “What kind of chef is skinny, huh? Can’t trust that.”

“You weren’t saying that when you were eating the meal I cooked this evening,” Ignis pointed out.

“Well,” Gladio replied, “I was hungry then.”

Ignis’ lips twitched, and he looked out over the dark horizons once more.

“You thinking about the future?” Gladio asked. “This could be how it goes down, you know, when we take him off to get hitched.”

“He’s only sixteen,” Ignis said, not turning to look at Gladiolus’ expression, not sure what he’d see in the other man’s face. It all felt so entirely nebulous, and he hated how far in the future it was – negotiations were still in their planning stages, and all was so slow to develop, so unpredictable. And yet… With every day that went past, the future loomed yet higher overhead, threatening to drop in one fell swoop upon their heads. “He shall hardly be married to the Oracle tomorrow.”

“But he will be, one day,” Gladio said. His tone was gentle. “And that’s just the wedding – there’ll be other stuff, too, escorting him all around. When he’s king—”

“Do forgive me for asking,” Ignis whispered, “but from where precisely is this lecture coming from?”

There was a moment’s pause, and Ignis looked at Gladio’s face, at his expression. He was starting to grow in a beard, and it suited him, Ignis thought, wasn’t at all so patchy as Ignis’ would be, if he tried to grow one himself – Gods forbid. Gladio looked stricken, his lips parted, his eyes dark.

“Sorry,” he said finally. “Didn’t mean to lecture, I was just… I don’t know, Iggy. Guess I was thinking out loud more than anything else.”

“Oh,” Ignis said. “My apologies.” He floundered, grasping at the mental straws. “You were thinking about the future yourself, then?”

“A girl asked me if I’d ever think about asking her to marry me,” Gladio said, and Ignis felt himself stun, feeling his eyes widen. He stared at Gladio – they were each too young for that, weren’t they? But no: Ignis was only nineteen; Gladio was soon to turn to twenty-one. That was old enough to marry.

“I was just thinking,” Ignis said, “how much it feels like the future is hurtling toward us too fast. A marriage would rather speed that up, wouldn’t it? But Marjella, isn’t it, that’s the girl? You’ve been with her seven months now, Gladio, I—”

“I said no,” Gladio said, and Ignis felt his lips stop their movements, his tongue quietening in its bed. “She’s a nice girl. I like her. But… I don’t know. I guess I don’t think I could juggle being a husband and being devoted to Noct, I gotta… I’d need him to be stable first, I think. When he’s married, and once he’s king—”

“Gladio, that could be a decade hence,” Ignis said. “Two decades, even – his majesty is ailing, but he’s hardly in the clutches of complete frailty. He’s not on death’s door.”

“Duty comes first,” Gladiolus said. “Maybe later, I’ll find myself a lady, but not now, not soon. The throne comes first – Noctis, he comes first.” He said it like he was practising saying the words out loud, and Ignis watched him for a long moment before he touched Gladiolus’ wrist. The heat radiated from him, against Ignis’ palm, and Ignis squeezed gently before he withdrew his hand, settling it into his lap. “I hope I didn’t make you feel bad,” Gladiolus said, “if you were with a girl…”

“What?” Ignis asked, his body feeling abruptly like it had been doused in ice water, and he shook his head. “No, no, I wasn’t… I wasn’t worried about that. Not at all.”

Gladiolus raised his eyebrows. “What, none of them catching your eye?”

“Marriage has never been one of my priorities,” Ignis murmured. “Like you, I would prefer to put duty first.”

“You can still be with girls, though,” Gladio said.

Ignis’ throat felt full and thick, his tongue clumsy, his head spinning. He suppressed a shiver as his stomach gave an abrupt and twisting lurch, making the ghost of a gag threaten to come up from the base of his throat. His fingers gripped slightly tighter at his own knees, dimpling the flesh through the fabric of his trousers.

“I don’t have time for that sort of thing,” Ignis said, his voice sounding slightly hoarse to his own ears.

“Right,” Gladio said, slowly. “I mean… If you ever wanted advice, I could give you some.”

“Advice,” Ignis repeated, not looking at Gladio. He thought about trying to lend voice to exactly what it was he wanted to say. It wasn’t that it was _unheard_ of. Certainly, men were… But not in his majesty’s service: not in amongst the palace staff. There was still the implication of the sordid in it, still something _inappropriate_ in it.

“Yeah,” Gladio said. “You know, about uh, catching somebody’s eye. Going in for the kiss. Going home together after a successful date.”

“You think I need such in-depth schooling for a subject matter I have no interest in?”

“Seems like the subject matter might have interest in you,” Gladiolus said. “You didn’t see Randal staring at your ass earlier?”

“The stable boy?” Ignis asked, feeling his heart skip a beat at the thought of it, of Randal’s skin-tight vest when he was working with the Chocobos, his arms so tightly coiled with strength when he drew on their reins… And then he realised precisely what Gladio had said. He coughed, running a hand through his hair, aware of the hot flush in his cheeks. “Oh. Well. No, no, as I said, I haven’t time—”

“Haven’t got time, or too scared?”

“What is it I have to be scared of?”

“I don’t know,” Gladio said. “You tell me.”

Ignis turned his head, and then he inhaled sharply, because Gladio was leaning in toward him, so close that Ignis’ nose almost brushed against his, their mouths so close together that Ignis had to stop himself from licking his lips – there’d be too much of a chance that his tongue would brush Gladio’s mouth as well as his own.

Gladiolus’ eyes were dark and shining in the dim light, lit by the orange glow from the fire veins below where they were sitting, and they were beautiful. Beautiful…

“Don’t have time?” Gladio asked.

“I could have a look at my schedule, I suppose,” Ignis said, trying to sound controlled, _wry_, and not breathless, not as if he was about to fall to pieces at any moment. Gladio laughed, soft and low, and when he leaned back, Ignis felt himself leaning to follow him, feeling the loss of Gladio’s body beside him, of his heat.

“We can talk this through tomorrow,” Gladio said. “Iggy… You need to sleep.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said, standing slowly to his feet. “Gladio—”

“In the morning,” Gladio said, smiling at him. It was a kind smile – a handsome smile.

“Was he really staring at my arse?”

“For the whole time we were there,” Gladio said. “I was amazed you didn’t notice. He wasn’t subtle.”

“Fascinating…”

“C’mon. Let’s hit the hay.”

Groggy, Ignis followed Gladio to where they’d set out their sleeping bags, and laid down beside him, his head against the plump pillow he’d brought out to support his neck in the field. Gladio’s sleeping bag was perhaps just a little closer to Ignis’ than it needed to be, and yet when one of his legs brushed against Ignis’, Ignis curled a little bit closer rather than drawing away.

It was easy to fall asleep this time, somehow.

Something to do with the rhythm of Gladio’s breathing beside him.


End file.
